


Montesquieu

by AStupidUserName420



Category: French Revolution RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Romantic Fluff, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-17 23:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10604226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AStupidUserName420/pseuds/AStupidUserName420
Summary: Antoine does not want to spend a week a Desmoulins house, even though it seems like the only option while the flat is inhabitable. However the payoff does seem rather good...(Light hearted romantic fluff/humor. Don't take it too seriously.)





	

A/N: More modern!AU nonsense. Also a thought: If Maximilien Robespierre lived today he would probably dress like James May off of Top Gear/Grand Tour. I swear its true, what with the scarfs and bright floral print shirts.

A/N: Also, everything I’m writing about here is mostly character finding exercises. At some point I’ll branch into other HFs, but for the moment it’s the Frev Show.

A/N: Frev is missing fluffy romcom shenanigans of ‘My best friend and my boyfriend hate each other’ – Autobiography by Maxmilien Robespierre. Luckily, I am here to fulfill this crucial need.  (Also for real though, why exactly did Camille and Saint-Just hate each other? I know Saint-Just was writing Camille early on, around the same time he wrote Robespierre, and wanted Camille to give Organt a favorable review in his first newspaper, and then Camille made his ‘He carries his head like a saint (approx.)’ comment after Saint-Just’s speech but is there a definite source for their hate? If there is can someone teach me about it? Like seriously, I’m dying to know.)

~x~x~

Antoine was still in his running clothes, having not been able to change before Maximilien stopped him at the door. 

“We have to go away for a week.”

Antoine wiped the sweat away from his eyes, moving past Maxime into the flat.

“Why? Has Maurice said something? Work can’t be sending you away.” He spoke hoarsely, coughing slightly. His eyes widened at the multiple coffee cups in the sink. He’d only been gone ninety minutes.

“Yes, he came by after you left. They need to replace the insulation in the outside walls. He needs us out from Monday to Saturday.” Maxime was absently chewing on his thumb nail as he spoke, delicate little tension lines appearing all over his face.  Antoine took his hand, gently rubbing it between his own. Maxime wrinkled his nose, not pleased with his sweaty hands but allowing himself to be pacified for the moment.

“Well you have been saying that you want to take some time off to go back home,” Antoine suggested softly, raising an eyebrow.

Maxime looked at him sharply. “That is not funny, mon cher.”

Antoine sighed. “Let me take a shower, and change and then we will reconvene back here to discuss options.” Maxime nodded and Anotine released his hand to press a fond kiss to his forehead.

XXXXX

Antoine toweled off his hair and dropped down on to the couch, looking at his phone.

“Alright, shall we go alphabetically?”

Maxime was pacing up and down in the living room, chewing his thumb nail again.

“Oui, go on.”

“Augustin?”

Max sighed. “He’s in Monaco for this week, he won’t be back till Friday. That doesn’t really help us.”

“Barras?”

Maxime looked at him with such venom that Antoine held up his hands.

“He’s just in my contacts, Maxime.”

Maxime snorted. “You should delete him,” he muttered.

“Charlotte?”

“Yes, she would love me to come. You?” Maxime gestured to Antoine. “Not nearly as much.”

“What about your other friends in Arras? Buissart?”

“He’s busy with a case now,” Maxime said with a sigh. Suddenly he stopped his tense pacing and looked up. Then he looked at Antoine, eyes narrowed.

“What about Cam-“

“Absolutely not.” Antoine cut him off. “No, Maxime, you know we don’t get along. I don’t want to have to spend an entire week at Desmoulin’s house.”

Max placed his hands on his hips. “Who else then? Danton? He and Gabrielle have a small baby. Marat? He’s still living in Simmone’s basement. Phillipe? Deployed.” With each name, he ticked them off on his fingers. Antoine sank back into the couch and sighed through his nose.

“Hotel?” He offered, clinging to this last chance. To his surprise, Maxime broke his defensive posture to sit down on the couch, close enough to touch.

“Antoine, it’s only for a week. He works full time, you’ll be in classes for most of it. The two of you will hardly need to interact at all.” Maxime was using his sincere expression, the one that signaled he was absolutely believing every single word that came out of his mouth. It was one that made Antoine fall in love with him in the first place.

“I surrender. But you have to call him and arrange it.” Antoine said, already dreading it. However, Maxime beamed at him, grey-green eyes shining.

XXXX    

TO: cdesmoulins@LVC.org

FROM: m.robespierre@artoise.law

SUBJECT: Can we stay with you next week?

Dear Camille,

How did your editor like you latest article? You didn’t tell me in your last email. How is our lovely Lucile? Is she writing for that blog you told me about?

I won’t dissemble Camille, I need a favor from you. Maurice Duplay came to see me this afternoon and told me the flat won’t be habitable for a week while they do construction. Agustin and Charlotte are both busy, and we can’t get a hotel for a week. You would be doing me a tremendous favor if we could stay at your house.

Please let me know as soon as you can and give my love to Lucile,

Sincerely

Maximilien.

TO: m.robespierre@artoise.law

FROM: cdesmoulins@LVC.org

SUBJECT: RE: Can we stay with you next week?

Max,

Lucile sends kisses, and says she will tell you all about her blogging when you come over. I shall also tell you exactly what Mirabeau thought of my article as well, you’ll probably think it’s funny…

Of course, you can come stay with us for a week! Max, you hardly need to ask! Just let me know the details and we will see you and Brount very soon.

Camille.

TO: cdesmoulins@LVC.org

FROM: m.robespierre@artoise.law

SUBJECT: RE: Can we stay with you next week?

Dear Camille,

I’m looking forward to seeing you and Lucile. Brount says hello as well. I’m sure whatever Mirabeau said is scintillating.

Thank you so much for letting Antoine and I stay with you. We will see you Monday the first after work.

Sincerely,

Maximilien.  

TO: m.robespierre@artoise.law

FROM: cdesmoulins@LVC.org

SUBJECT: RE: Can we stay with you next week?

Max,

Excuse me?

Fucking WHO is coming with you??

XXXX

“I don’t want Antoine Saint-Just in my house,” Camille moaned piteously. He was lying face down on the couch. Lucile looked at him over her laptop. She was trying to finish edits on her latest article, but Camille was being very distracting, and not in his usual both-cute-and-sexy way.  

“You already promised Maxime.”

“I know I did, that’s why I’m complaining to you and not to him.”

Lucile shook her head. “I still don’t understand what exactly your damage is with him.”

Camille sat up with a sigh. “It’s a long story and needless to say he was the one who started it.”

Lucile looked skyward and muttered a quick prayer to providence. “Of course he did, darling.” Camille resumed his dramatic sulking, looking for all the world like a Victorian Heroine who had discovered that her beau had absconded with a scullery maid. She sighed.

“Camille, regardless of whatever went on between you and Antoine-” Camille hissed, “Regardless, it’s only for a week and Maxime assures me that Antoine will be in classes from Monday to Friday and the rest of the time he will be kept fully occupied.”

_“Whatever that entails,_ ” Lucile thought to herself.

“He contacted you?” Camille asked, eyebrows climbing.

“Well yes. He seemed to think you were very upset and wanted me to reassure you.” Lucile rolled her eyes. “The two of you should have just gotten married to each other and you wouldn’t have this problem.”

Camille smiled, the first since he’d gotten home and started pouting to her. “We would have been terrible spouses. For one, Maxime doesn’t like to top.”

XXXX

Antoine grit his teeth as Maxime knocked on the door. His hand tightened around Brount’s leash, even though the Great Dane was sitting calmly next to him.

_“It’s only for a week, you can avoid Desmoulins for a week.”_

The door opened and Lucile beamed at Maxime, pulling him in for a hug, which was gratefully returned, along with her kiss.

“Max! It’s wonderful to see you darling, come in,” She opened the door wider so they could step through. Maxime carefully pulled the luggage in, seeming to take great care not to scratch the floors.

“It’s good to see you too, Lucile. You look radiant, as always.”

She smiled at him. “I’m not the one you should be kissing up to, Maximilien, speaking of which,” she turned her gaze on Antoine, who stiffened.

Maxime coughed. “Lucile, allow me to introduce you to Louise Antoine Saint-Just.”

“Just Antoine, ma’am.” He shook her hand, even as she looked him up and down.

“It’s nice to meet you, Antoine. No ‘ma’am’ please, just Lucile,” she smiled at him, scrutiny over. Brount, tired of being ignored, butted his head against her hip for attention. “Hello Brount, it’s wonderful to see you as well,” she cooed.

Maxime, meanwhile smiled at Antoine, who ignored the tightening in his chest to pat the dog’s head.

“Where is Camille?” He looked around, as if his old school friend would pop around from the corner.

“He’s working downstairs. Take your things up, release Brount to the garden and I’ll go get him. The guest room is the one at the end of the hall upstairs,” Lucile instructed.

Maxime and Antoine traded luggage and leash, and Antoine took as long as he could to take the two suitcases to the room, place them gently by the door, change his mind and move them to the closet and finally with a sigh, went back downstairs.

He paused before he turned the corner into the kitchen to settle his features into carefully constructed expressionless.

In the small dinette Maxime and Lucile had both been supplied with coffee while Camille had clearly just been in the middle of making his, refilling the press with hot water.

“Anyway, Max, I told Mirabeau that I’d only do that article for him about how Twitter was gradually destroying the journalism industry because now you can go and quote anyone without any context, although how that was different from before, I have no idea, if then he’d let me do the one about how social policing on social media is becoming a new form of censorship-“

Antoine couldn’t help the tiny involuntary scoff he made.

Really.

Camille turned around so fast he narrowly avoided splashing hot water on himself.

The two men stared at each other for a long silent moment. Lucile stared at Camille, mouth twitching. Maximilien stared at Antoine, unblinkingly.

Very slowly Antoine opened his mouth, considered about fifty things to say, and finally after seeing the slightly panicked look on Maxime’s face, landed on “I’m going for a run,” and turned on his heel to walk away, head held high.

Internally, he sighed.

This was going to be a long week.

XXXXX

It was Sunday morning, and they were due to finally go home. Antoine was hardly awake when Maxime rolled over into his arms and kissed his collar bone.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

Antoine wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer with a sigh.

There had been some undeniably tense moments throughout the week, after that first night, however it seemed that partway through Camille and Antoine had come to an unspoken truce that called for a cease of hostilities for this week.

While neither of them had become warmer exactly, it no longer felt like a health hazard to cohabit the same room, for fear of losing a limb to hypothermic silences.

Antoine sighed again, eyes still closed. “For you, anything.” He opened his eyes only to find Maximilien staring intently at him, a small smile playing around his mouth.

He rolled over again so he was over Maxime, and kissed him, winding an arm under his shoulders to hold him closer. Gently their lips moved together in a rhythm without thought. Antoine could feel the vibrations through his chest when Maxime moaned. However a moment later he broke the kiss.

“No, no- Anotine, no. We can’t, not here.” The breathless sound in Maxime’s voice did nothing to cool the heat in his blood. He moved closer to him, breathing in the smell of sleep warmed skin.

“Anotine,” Maxime’s voice now carried a definite plea in it and he pressed his advantage burying his face in the crook between shoulder and neck. A small whimper came from somewhere near his ear. Antoine gently kissed his way up the delicate skin of his neck and at the sensitive part under an ear paused. This close to Maxime and he could hear his blood in his veins, and feel him shake with every thunderous heartbeat.

Very carefully Antoine started worrying the skin and smiled when Maxime arched wordlessly against him, head twisting to let him get closer. This was trick he’d learned very early to make nearly every thought vanish from Maxime’s mind.

His own breathing was starting to pick up and become heavier when the inevitable happened.

Knocking.

“Maxime? Max, are you up yet?”

Antoine froze. Under him Maximilien seized every muscle in his body to become a statue.

“Maximilien, are you up yet?” Camille resumed knocking on the door. As if he’d had cold water splashed all over him Maxime shook his head and pushed Antoine away.

“Don’t come in! I-I’m studying Montesquieu!” He called out.

For a moment, there was silence, before Camille let a very quiet and horrified sounding “Oh.” Then footsteps hurried away.

In the room, it was still silent. Maxime was flushed and determinedly staring over Antoine’s shoulder. After waiting for a count to fifty Antoine finally asked.

“Montesquieu?”

Maxime bit his lip, looking as if he was trying valiantly not to laugh.

“We went to boarding school together. After a certain age, and many embarrassments we decided that if one of us needed um, to be alone, we would use the code ‘Montesquieu’.”

Antoine could feel his lips curling up in a smile.

“Not Rousseau?” He asked, gently teasing. Maxime muttered something. “What?”

“That was my vote, and Camille told me only I could get hot thinking about Rousseau.”

Antoine couldn’t help it, he laughed. Pulling Maxime close he pressed a kiss to his mouth.

“I’ll remember that, for when we are in our own home, and in our own bed, we are going to continue this,” he promised as he gestured between the two of them. Maxime’s eyes widened, and he shyly looked down to the bed covers.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

XXXXX

Antoine stepped off the last stair into the hallway and did not have quite enough time to tell Maxime not to come down because sitting in the kitchen along with Lucile and Camille Desmoulins was Georges Danton.

Predictably the first words out of his mouth upon seeing Maxime was, “Do you know you have a hickey, Max?”

Maxime flushed red as he clapped a hand up to his neck. If looks could kill, Camille would have been drawn and quartered by the stare Antoine leveled at him. Camille, for his part had the common decency to look ashamed.

“I tried to warn you,” he mouthed at Antoine, who did not let up in his dead-eyed stare.

“Good morning, Maximilien, Antoine. Danton is here,” Lucile said, smirking slightly.

“So I’ve seen,” Maxime sighed, drawing his hand away from his neck. “Good morning, Georges.”

“Sorry to interrupt your morning, I was just in the area and decided to come over for coffee. Hello Antoine,” Danton leaned over to smile at him.

He nodded curtly, and looped an arm around Max’s shoulders.

“We would love to stay and have coffee however we have an urgent meeting.”

Everyone looked at him.

“We do?” Maxime asked, looking horrified that he might have forgotten something.

“Yes, we do,” Antoine smiled slightly. “You remember, with Montesquieu.”

Danton and Lucile exchanged bemused glances while Camille fumbled with his coffee, nearly dropping it in shock.

Maxime meanwhile, smiled.

“You are, entirely correct Antoine. I’ll go collect Brount, if you’ll get the bags,” he said softly to him. With a cat like smile he turned to Camille and Lucile.

“Thank you so much for letting us stay with you.”

“Of course, but Max do you really need to rush away? You can stay for-” Maxime cut across Lucile’s words softly.

“This meeting is very urgent, we really can’t be late. Camille could tell you.”

Camille shot a horrified look to Max as Lucile and Danton looked over to him. Antoine had to grin to himself as he left the room.

Few things could be better or more delighting than Maximilien Robespierre when he felt mischievous, and he could hardly wait to see the consequences of Maxime’s good mood.

If this was the result of being around Camille, then Antoine believed that someday he could probably tolerate him.

Someday.

-FIN.  


End file.
